


We're going to need a bigger kick.

by someinstant



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someinstant/pseuds/someinstant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are sharks, and Arthur blames Steven Spielberg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're going to need a bigger kick.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrenchRoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/gifts).



> This was written for frenchroast as part of an icon-prompt writing meme on my LJ. The icon which inspired this ficlet reads, "Live every week like it's shark week."

"That," Arthur said, squinting into the sun, "was pathetically easy." The waves were washing gently up onto the beach around them, little susurrations of bathwater ocean. Arthur held the open puzzle box in his hands. He looked uncomfortable, like he had sand in unmentionable places.

"So," said Araidne, looking up at him from where she sat on a red and blue striped beach towel. She rolled up her sleeves, and wondered idly if she would sunburn in the dream. "We've got another, what, ten minutes on the clock?"

"Another two hours here, yeah," Arthur agreed. He glanced back over his shoulder. The beach was moderately full of projections, but none of them appeared to be concerned by their presence, and the subject was presumably back where they had left him: in bed with his mistress. Clearly, this was not a dream from which the subject was eager to wake.

"We could go swimming while we're waiting," Ariadne suggested half-heartedly. Half-hearted, because swimming meant exerting energy, and she was feeling pleasantly warm and lazy.

It was really fantastically nice when a job went to plan without a lot of drama. Hell, the way things were looking, they might even get out without dying horribly.

Arthur looked down at her. It was hard to see his face with the sun behind his head. "You want to swim?"

Ariadne shrugged. "Something to do," she said. "Unless you really want to do the suicide thing to wake up early."

Arthur shook his head, and-- to her surprise-- moved to sit down on the towel next to her. "No thanks," he said, and unbuttoned his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. "There might be sharks."

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "I can promise you," she said, "there are no sharks here. I didn't put any in. Just, like, those Nemo fish and a couple dolphins."

Arthur shook his head again and leaned back on his elbows. "Wouldn't be you," he said. "I watched _Jaws_ a few too many times when I was a kid. And there was a thing at the beach one summer. Sharks tend to-- show up, sometimes, with me."

"You're kidding." Ariadne turned to face him. "Cobb has trains, you've got sharks-- what the hell does Eames have?"

"I have no idea," Arthur said, laying down flat and closing his eyes. He looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. It was weird. "Underwear models who won't sleep with him. Ditto for men with really fast cars. Truly counterfeit-proof documents."

Ariadne snorted in amusement.

Arthur pried his eyes, squinting against the perpetual noon of the dream. "What about you?" he asked. "Anything we should watch out for with you?"

She thought for a moment. It was a good question, and one they probably ought to have addressed several months before-- and certainly not while they were on a job. But he'd asked, and the least she could do was answer honestly.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I think my fears are pretty normal. Death, illness, you know. Cancer. Being lonely." She frowned. "I really don't like hospitals. And," she paused, looking up at the sky where a bank of clouds was building, "I'm a little afraid of the dark."

Arthur glanced up. The clouds were boiling now, and more than a few projections were also looking skyward. "A little?" he asked, shaking his head. The first dark cloud slid over the sun, and the shade was shockingly cool. Ariadne gripped the beach towel under her hand, and tried not to panic. What if she plunged the whole dream into midnight? The mark would notice-- the projections would tear them apart-- they might be like _Mal_ \--

"Right. Ariadne," Arthur said, voice calm, "It's noon on the beach. It's sunny out," and the cloud pushed off, slowly, "and you're starting to get a little bit of a sunburn on your face because you've been sitting in the sun for so long." Ariadne felt the sting of sun on her face, and remembered that, essentially, she put it there.

 _My dream_ , she reminded herself, _This is my dream, and I can change it_ , and pushed the clouds back further to the west. She broke them up, drifted them apart, let the sun beat back down. The projections went back to building sandcastles and reading trashy novels, oblivious to the fickle weather.

"All right," said Arthur, still sounding remarkably relaxed. "I guess this means I need to remember to dream up a flash light on the next job."

"Thanks," Ariadne replied, a little shaky. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what I can do for you about the sharks, though," she said. "A shark cage is a little bulky."

Arthur shrugged. "Oxygen tank and a harpoon gun, maybe."

Ariadne leaned back on her elbows. Out in the water, a pod of dolphins swam past. No sharks there. "I'm trying to figure out how to use the _going to need a bigger boat_ line here, but it's just not coming," she told him.

Arthur chuckled. "You and me both," he said, and they were quiet together, listening to the tide never changing, until the clock ran out.


End file.
